Bachelor’s Degree? Check.
Law Degree? Check.
Full-time job practicing law? Check.
Homeowner? Check.
Adoring husband? Check.
By 2016 I had everything I ever wanted. Now, I was ready to start a family. Wouldn’t it be great if we got pregnant right away!? We were as ready as anyone could ever be!
I never realized how bumpy the road to motherhood could be.
Fast forward to 2017 and 12 negative pregnancy tests later: I was deflated and had lost all hope.
Eddie, the adoring husband, on the other hand, was as optimistic as ever. I felt it in my bones, though, something was wrong. My OB in town suggested I “just keep trying for another six months.”
Six months later, still no positive pregnancy tests. It was time to get answers, however terrifying that seemed.
We found an infertility specialist in San Antonio and were able to get in to see him the following week. They ran tests on both myself and my husband. Turns out he has twice as much sperm as the average man his age. Good for him! So, what was the issue?
It was me.
I was the issue.
Turns out I have “diminished ovarian reserve.” Not enough eggs. We were immediately told getting pregnant wouldn’t be impossible, but it would take IVF. We sat with a financial advisor to discuss it.
Twelve thousand dollars to try ONCE.
We left the doctor’s office a little disappointed, but empowered with our new knowledge. We were going to give IVF a shot in a couple of months after we moved some money around.
As the weeks passed, the wheels in my head kept turning and turning. Were we really just going to wait MONTHS before we tried SOMETHING? Anything? No one would use the word “patient” to describe me. So, I gave the doctor a call.
I didn’t really give him a choice. He prescribed me Clomid, a prescription to help my body release more eggs, and suggested IUI. Basically, a turkey baster type situation.
I tried the Clomid. It made me feel awful. Then we went in for our turkey baster procedure. I wasn’t hopeful. I didn’t feel like we timed it quite right.
Two weeks later, I noticed I was late, which for me, wasn’t that odd. I took a test. Negative. Okay, well, maybe I was just late.
A few more days go by. Still no monthly visitor. So, I took another test. I stared and stared at the test. Was I going crazy? Could I really see the faintest pink line? I ran out of the bathroom and showed my husband. He couldn’t see it. He thought I had lost my mind.
A few days later, I tried again. The line wasn’t very dark, but definitely darker than before. I called the infertility specialist. He wanted to see us to confirm the pregnancy.
We went in the following week. I was terrified and cautiously ecstatic.
As the doctor began the ultrasound, I felt like I had forgotten how to breathe. It felt like an eternity until he finally said, “There it is. There’s the baby.”
It was real. We were really pregnant. Finally! Twelve weeks later we shouted it out to the world. Baby Reyna was due in March of 2019!
Besides the occasional terrifying moment where I thought about what COULD go wrong, my pregnancy was great. Hardly any morning sickness, and no barfing!
We even took a babymoon to NYC with friends in December.
The holidays came and went, and I entered the third trimester. I felt great until I didn’t. One Sunday night in January I felt really nauseous. Something was wrong. We went to the ER.
My blood pressure was through the roof. I was admitted and told to get comfortable. I would be staying there until the baby came.
I was on bed rest for one miserable week before my blood pressure made it too dangerous to keep baby in. She had to come out. I was only 30 weeks pregnant. This was our first baby. We didn’t know what to expect. Would she be okay?
Our baby girl Raegan was born at 11:45 pm on January 13th. Ten weeks early. She weighed 2 lbs 8 oz. They wrapped her up and let me kiss her tiny face. I remember thinking to myself, “Wow, she doesn’t seem so small. Maybe we can go home soon!” Boy was I wrong.
Turns out, under that blanket, was a very tiny premature baby. I was shocked when I made it over to the NICU to see her. She was so much smaller and fragile than I remembered. So small, that I was told I could not hold her. “What do you mean I can’t hold my own baby?” And so began our NICU journey…
Was your road to motherhood smooth sailing or was your’s as bumpy as mine? It’s all too common to hear stories of struggle – and that’s why we are sharing: you are not alone!
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